


Outlaws

by Tyler743



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Starfire (Comics)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 19:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyler743/pseuds/Tyler743
Summary: Sneak peak at a future fic I may be planning on writing about my take on Red Hood and the Outlaws.It will just be the introduction of the characters and how they came together for the events of the fic.Let me know what you guys think and if you would be interested in reading it and I will begin to write.No warnings or ratings have been decided yet.





	1. JASON TODD

When you’re a kid and people ask you what you want to be when you grow up, what would you say?

If you were normal you would probably say something like, you want to be an astronaut, or a teacher, or the president of the United States. But my childhood was far from normal, and so was I.

Let me start off by saying that things are never really as they seem and all of that “ _everything happens for a reason_ ” crap, is bogus. My mother was a Catholic school girl who grew up in middle class home with two sisters and loving parents. My father was an orphaned greaser who didn’t even finish middle school and partied a little bit too hard. But somehow, by some twist of fate, they met and fell in love, or maybe they didn’t, maybe it was just the thrill of it that kept them coming back to each other. I guess I should be grateful either way because not long after they started seeing each other, they had me and eloped to the city and for a while everything seemed great. We were the goddamn epitome of the perfect family; dad held down a steady job in construction, mom was a stay-at-home who attended book club every week and made the best macaroni and cheese I have yet to have to this day, I shit you not. Our family was like something straight out of a story book and it was great.

But remember how I said that things aren’t how they seem. Yeah, well, the older I got the more I realized that. It turned out that dad didn’t really have a construction job, but worked as a mobster drug dealer. And moms “book club” was really just code word for her working the corner by our local Denny’s.  

Classy family, right?

I kind of fell to the back burner when dad’s “business” started to fall through and money become tight. They began to fight a lot when we were home, sometimes about the money, mostly about drugs. He didn’t bother doing his deals outside anymore and instead thought it was a good idea to constantly have people coming in and out of the house. Men, women, kids not much older than me; you name it, they were buying, some of them were nice, some were quiet, and some were, well, they were junkies.

I was ten when a deal went south and the buyer shot dear old dad at point blank in the face. Took almost everything we owned and left us high and dry. My mother was never really the same after that; started using, started drinking, started letting redundant douche bags into her bed for some extra cash to keep us afloat but it was barely enough. It was around that time when I started noticing our cities crime stopping vigilante, Batman. In the eyes of a broken ten year old, he was the coolest thing ever and whenever I would see him on the news, or in the papers or hear kids at school talking about him I would just imagine myself becoming just like him. Better, I wanted to become Batman so that I could save my mother and me from the absolute hellhole that was our life. That was what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was wicked fast, I was stronger than the other kids my age, and I had drive. I knew I could do it. But life unfortunately had other plans and when I was twelve I dropped out of school to follow in my old man’s footsteps of petty theft and doing drug runs for mom.

Good times.

I literally didn’t think life could get any shittier. But guess I was pretty off the mark, because two years later, when I was fourteen I had the unfortunate experience of finding my mom dead in our bathroom, needle still in her arm.

The short time-frame after that is a gray area in my mind, I don’t really remember much other than being all alone, on the streets, doing what I had to do to survive. In all honesty, I probably wanted to off myself and for the life of me I don’t know why I didn’t at least try. Maybe there was still that sliver of hope that was clinging to me from when I was younger. Maybe I was too scared to do anything that permanent, wouldn’t surprise me, looking back on it now I was kind of a pussy.

Then, like a beacon of light one night I was found, and not just by anyone, but by _him_. Batman; the guy who I aspired to be like, the guy who wasn’t afraid of anything and was admired by everyone around the city. Just like that he took me in and suddenly everything wasn’t shitty anymore. I had new clothes, I had a bed, I had a family, and above all I had a purpose.

My childhood dream of becoming Batman might not have come true, but I had become the next best thing. I had become Robin, Batman’s sidekick, his ally, his partner in crime. He taught me everything there was to know, he taught me how to fight, and oh boy, fight I did. I was kicking bad guy ass like there was no tomorrow; stopping mobsters and junkies, saving damsels in distress and taking names. For a while I was on top of the friggin’ world!

Until I wasn’t anymore.

Turns out that you’re never really invincible, no matter how much you feel like you are. I got cocky and I paid the price. My time as Robin was over, and everyone believed my time on this earth was over too. But again, life had other plans.

Fast forward nine years and here I am, once again living my absolute best life; and this time it’s _my_ life. Not my deadbeat parents, not Batman’s, _mine_.

My name is Jason Todd, and this is the story of how a recovering alcoholic, an alien and I found common ground in a little place known as Taboga Island, Panama.

Sounds crazy right?

Well, readers. Buckle down, cause you ain’t heard nothin’ yet.   


	2. ROY HARPER

I was twenty two when I met Roy Harper, and God only knows how we became friends, because in the beginning I couldn’t stand him. If I’m being honest, I really couldn’t stand people in general after my...comeback, but I think that was why we clicked so well. He was in the same goddamn boat as I was.

  
The runaway son of a billionaire, who had anger problems and an addiction to boot; we were basically kindred spirits, two peas in the same pod. Only while he was addicted to the simpler things of life, like drowning himself in Jack Daniels or Dayquil, I got my rush in other ways, like sometimes from killing people...

  
Mainly from killing people, actually.

  
After parting ways from Batman I had decided that his clement ways of dealing with the criminally insane really didn’t sit well with me. Why save the lives of those who don’t give a rat’s arse about the safety of the innocent? Those who slaughter, those who take and deal and rape and traffic? Maybe being a victim myself, had made me a bit bias, but the way I saw it was that if you played the game, you paid the consequences, no matter how unsparing those consequences may be.

  
Roy got that.

  
And while I found him cocky at certain times, and simply unpleasant at others, we kind of found solace in each other that neither of us had found before. The amount of times he backed me up when I was gunning down some inessential lowlife warmed my heart, and the amount of times I carried him home when he was too corked to walk himself, and held his hair back while he spewed his guts out on the side of the road, warmed his too, I’m sure. Though what he really should have been appreciative for was the fact that whenever we weren’t hunting down bad guys or trying to get each other laid, I was trying to help him put away the bottle and whatever other drugs he would experiment with.  
I had spent my whole life around addiction, and I knew where it led. Every time I watched Roy drink himself into oblivion or pop a pill, memories of my mother passed out on our floor, vomit spilling from the side of her mouth would come flashing into my mind and I would feel sick. I had finally found someone who I didn’t hate being around, and I didn’t want that person to wind up dead, so being the great guy that I am, I made it my mission to help pull him out of the darkness.

  
It was hard at first but it got easier as time went by. Roy was willing to give up the drugs a lot faster than he was the alcohol, mainly due to the fact that whenever we would wrap up on a hit we would hit the bar. Which was mostly my fault, I won’t deny that. But hey, there’s nothing better than a cold beer after blowing someone’s brains out, am I right

  
Eventually he did get better, and booze became a marginal thing for him. I was such a good influence. Just your everyday, friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

  
Wrong studio...

  
Doesn’t matter, principle’s the same. I did good, so hats off to me.

  
I can’t really remember how or why we came to the conclusion to leave the good ol’ U.S. of A. and buy a plot of land in Central America; maybe it had something to do with our adoptive old men breathing down our necks every two seconds, trying to browbeat every move we made and indicate all of our “ _wrong doings_ ”. No matter where we went they would somehow find us, and no matter what good we did they were just never happy.

  
Ingrates.

  
Any matter, we found the cutest little place on Taboga, a small island not far from Panama City, that had just enough privacy to let us live our best secret op lives, and also had an amazing private beach which may or may not have been the selling point for me. Either way, with some of our combined savings, we snatched it up before anyone else could and bought our flights down.

Life was about to get good; it was just going to be me and Royboy, living on the beach, soaking up the sun and fighting crime our way without anyone hindering us.

Or so we thought at least. Turns out things are never really that simple.


End file.
